Broken
by YomiE
Summary: Chris is injured and running through an unfamiliar forest, searching desperately for a safe place, when she is found by a threatening looking man with a cross bow. She is taken in by his group and develops relationships, good and bad with the other survivors. A story about survival, love, the struggle to keep humanity alive, and the horror's of a world taken over by the undead.
1. I'm Gonna Die

**Author's note/Warning, Disclaimer:**

**Takes place during Season 2. Rated M for violence, language and sexual themes.**

**Main pairing is Daryl/OC  
**

**Just started writing this fanfiction a few weeks ago and finally brought up the courage to upload the first chapter. I hope some of you will stick around to see what happens! Enjoy!  
**

* * *

She bumped against a tree and fell onto her back. The woman had been running through the cluttered forest for hours, blood was oozing from a wound in her side. She groaned, reaching down and clutching her bloody side in pain, laying there for a few moments before pulling herself back up, grabbing the backpack she had dropped a few feet away from her. "Fuck…" She moaned, continuing to move forward, trying hard to ignore the pain in her legs and side and find a safe place to stay for the night.

She found it hard to stay positive with the size of the wound and the pace at which the blood was flowing out of her body. What if she never found a safe place? If she did, what would she do once she got there? What if she found people, or a group of undead? She barely had any supplies with her and was in no condition to fight off anyone, undead or alive. She pulled a handkerchief out of her back pocket and pressed it sloppily against her side, knowing in her heart that she had no chance of surviving this, but still ignoring the negative thoughts that ran through her mind.

She walked for about a half hour more before collapsing against a tree. Her breaths were ragged and dry. "Shit…shit!" She clutched at the tree with her shaking, bloody fingers, panting. She was bleeding out. She could barely stand, let alone walk, and there was no way in hell she could run. 'Holy shit…I'm gonna die.' She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the tree.

The woman's eyes snapped open. Slow rhythmic rustling, footsteps, moving over dead leaves and towards her. She shifted her position, her body tense. "shit…shit." She muttered under her breath, reaching her shaking hand into her boot and pulling out a small knife. She positioned herself into a crouch, trying not to move. If it was one or two monsters she was sure she could handle it, but she wanted to try avoiding whatever the footsteps belonged to. Her legs shook weakly under her weight; she fell over slightly, catching herself. She winced as she heard the footsteps stop. She froze, looking down at her shaking legs, feeling them numb up. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, preparing for whatever was waiting for her before shooting up to her feet.

A man stood before her. She had her knife in her raised hand, ready to strike. He pointed a crossbow at her head. He stared her down, his icy blue eyes piercing into her warm hazel ones. She was wheezing, her legs and arms shaking. "You bit?" He growled, in a Georgian accent.

"What?" She looked at him with half-lidded eyes, confused and dizzy. She'd stood up too quickly. "What?"

"Are you bit!?" He went forward, still pointing the crossbow at her, shoving it closer to her face.

She shook her head quickly. "No. N-no I'm not…"

"Why're you bleedin'?"

"Shot…I was shot." She moaned, falling against the tree, still staring at him. "Please…don't."

She took a few labored breaths before crumpling to her knees. He watched her, his crossbow still pointed at her head. "Leave me alone." She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, her whole body vibrated before it went almost limp, too weak to stay up, and she fell onto her side. She wheezed and coughed. The man's rugged, dirty face appeared in front of hers. He pushed her onto her back, pulling her bloody shirt up. She whimpered.

"No. Please." He grunted, pulling her shirt back down.

"Shut up." She heard a ripping noise.

"Leave me alone." Her torso was lifted off the ground for a moment then pushed back down. She groaned and tried to roll over.

"I'm taking you to my group. Quit movin'." She felt a pressure on her stomach.

"No. Get off."

"Shut up."

* * *

"You sure she wasn't bit?"

"I told you already. I checked."

"Did you feel a bullet?"

"It pro'ly went through. Look! Do what you want wit' her okay! I figured you'd want me to bring the bitch back! Jus' shoot her in the head if you don' believe me. I don't give a damn."

"…we should tie her to the bed."

"No. She's harmless."

"Are you sure, Hershel?"

"Yes. Would you send Patricia up here? I need help stitching this wound up."

"…All right."


	2. Lucky

**She meets two more characters!**

**More exciting things will happen soon!  
**

* * *

The woman's mind danced in and out of consciousness as her head throbbed softly. "Shit." She moaned as she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She began to panic immediately, looking around the unfamiliar room with frightened eyes. She was in a nice, clean bedroom, that would seem very comforting to anyone who'd been living in this hell the world had turned into, but she was terrified. She didn't know who this bedroom belonged to, or what they intended on doing to her.

The man with the crossbow crept into her mind. She remembered how unpleasant the man who had found her in the woods looked and the feel of his rough fingers on her skin. She whimpered at the thought. He hadn't looked very trustworthy and, actually, looked, kind of like a bad person. She sat up and threw the blankets off of her body, looking down and gasping, pulling the blankets back over her. She only wore her underwear. She was panting now, extremely worried, but not sure what to do. Tears welled up in her eyes and her heart pounded furiously. "Holy shit…no." she wheezed, looking at the nearby window and then around the room for something to break the glass with.

"You're awake." Her head snapped to the doorway. She'd expected to see the man with the crossbow, but another, with a calm expression, stood there instead. "You feel okay?"

"What are you going to do to me?" She blurted out, pulling the blanket higher up over her chest.

"We're going to take care of you." She scoffed, his calm attitude only raising her suspicions that something was not right. It was impossible to find people who'd take an injured girl in so easily nowadays, unless they wanted "something" in return.

"Fuck you." She growled.

"Calm down now. I'm gonna go get the doctor."

"Screw you! Give me my cloth-" She stood to lunge at the man falling to her knees instantly. She gasped and reached down to clutch her side, feeling a piece of cotton where the wound was. The man was by her side, pulling her up and laying her back on the bed. "Leave me alone!" She snarled turning over on her side, a pain shot up her back and she bit back a whimper. She gasped as he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her onto her back.

"Quit movin'."

"No! Don't touch me!" She whimpered, reaching up and putting her hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He took her weak, shaking arms and gently placed them by her sides.

"Hush. Hush! Now I understand…you're scared." He stared at her with a reassuring look in his eyes, talking in a quiet, calm voice. "You don't have to be scared now. My name is Rick. I'm a sheriff and I have a big group of nice people. One of my men, Daryl, brought you back here and we fixed up your wound. We ain't bad people. I promise."

"Why am I naked?" She stared at him with teary eyes, still trying to look as intimidating and strong as she could while being pinned down to the mattress.

"Your clothes were covered in blood and dirt. They're being cleaned up right now."

"Rick? Is everything okay?" An elder man entered the room, looking down at the woman. "She woke up? Is she talkin'?"

"Yes. She's trying to fight, but she's pretty weak. Tried to leap at me and fell." He looked down at her. "I'm going to let you go now. Be calm." He whispered, letting go of her arms. She whimpered, pulling them away from him and under the blanket.

"I'll have to get some food in her soon." She sat up slowly while the two men talked about her. "No, no. Lay down. You'll hurt yourself." The old man went towards her, gently pushing her onto her back. He had white, cloudy, combed back hair and kind, tired, old eyes. "How are you feelin' miss?" She stared at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"Why am I here?" She asked in a demanding tone, after a moment of silently staring at the men.

"We're taking care of you. I've been tending to your wounds." The elder man said.

"Where are we?"

"This is my farm, my house." The old man sat in a chair beside the bed. "I'm Hershel, by the way." She looked at Hershel, then back at Rick.

"Why are you helpin' me?"

"You think we'd just let you bleed to death?" Rick asked, stepping towards her.

"Anyone else would. At least…nowadays…" She flinched away from the man

"There are still some good people out there." Rick looked at Hershel, then back to the woman.

"You're lucky Rick's man found you out there. You were in bad shape. You would've been dead in an hour, maybe less." She didn't speak, just stared at the two men, afraid of letting her guard down around them.

"Who shot you?" Rick asked with a concerned tone in his voice.

"…dunno." She muttered coldly, looking down, feeling uncomfortable with Rick staring at her.

"What's your name?" She was silent for a few moments,

"Christina. Call me Chris."

"I hope you get better soon Chris. We have plenty of nice people here who'll take good care of you." She looked up slowly and watched him leave then looked at Hershel.

"You've stopped bleeding, but you're still very weak. I'll send up some food in a bit, you just rest for now. You can call Patricia or me if you need anything." He said before standing and heading towards the door.

"All right…"

"You're safe here." He said finally as he left her alone in the room.

"Yeah…Right."


	3. They're Just People

**Just finished editing this morning! I'm off to My friend's for the weekend! I'm planning on uploading some art for the fan fiction soon, so I'll let you guys know when I'm planning on uploading it! Enjoy Chapter 3 of Broken!**

* * *

Chris stayed in that room for about six more days, avoiding other people as much as she could. She'd move from the bed, to a chair, and to the window, but was always too afraid to venture farther than down the hall from the room. She was visited by Hershel, the old veterinarian who'd been tending to her wounds and conversing with her, attempting to pull her out of her lonely bubble, Patricia, who would bandage up Chris' wound every time she pushed away Hershel, Hershel's younger daughter Beth who'd bring food, clean clothes and other things Hershel wouldn't allow Chris to leave the room for, and sometimes Rick, who'd try to talk to Chris, but was also pushed away. None of them ever stayed too long.

"Are you feeling better Christina?"

"Yeah" She turned away from the Window to look at Hershel, smiling shyly. "I'm feeling all right. I can stand and walk a lot more."

"Maybe you should go outside. You've been in here for a long time, and I always see you looking out that window at Rick's group."

"Outside?" She chuckled. "No. Those people…they don't want me around."

"I'm sure they would. They're not all bad." Hershel said in his calm, fatherly voice.

"I guess. I haven't really talked to anyone in…a while." She chuckled again. "Hope I can remember how."

"They're just people. You'll be fine Christina." She scoffed softly.

"Just people?" She shook her head "You have no idea what people are capable of, Hershel…" She looked down and they were both silent for a minute before she sighed and looked back up at him. "Yeah…I guess you're right. I'll go for a little walk in a bit."

"I'm going to get Patricia to change your bandage before you go out." He said as he started out the room to find Patricia.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

* * *

The group had set up their camps a little farther from the house to give Hershel and his family their space. There were ten people in the group, but she only knew Rick and Daryl's names, though she hadn't seen Daryl since he'd found her in the woods, those few days ago. She walked awkwardly around the camp, watching the group go about their business, ignoring the curious looks they gave her.

"You're Christina?" A woman with short grey hair who was hanging clothes on a line peeked out at Chris from behind a button up shirt with Hawaiian, floral print on it.

"Oh…yes." She stopped walking and looked back at the woman. "Call me Chris."

"Chris." She tried out her nickname, and then smiled sweetly, looking at her with kind, but tired eyes. "I'm Carol."

"It's nice to meet you, Carol." She nodded, hesitantly walking over to where she was hanging laundry.

"Same here. I'm glad you're feeling better. We've all been really curious about you." She hung a pair of boxers up then reached into the basket of laundry, pulling out a slightly torn T-shirt. "You seem nice."

"Yeah, I guess so." Chris shrugged, smiling shyly.

"You should go around camp, meet everyone." She hung up the shirt, smoothing out a few wrinkles with her fingers.

"Hershel wanted me to come out and try meeting the group since I'm feelin' better. Not used to bein' around a nice group of people like this, though." She looked around, avoiding eye contact with the kind woman. "I mean…I've heard that you're all nice…It'd be nice to make some friends, I guess." She stammered.

"Most of us are." Carol said, looking at Chris with curiosity. "I think it would be nice. I'm sure everyone would like to meet you. Oh, but, don't worry about going to see Daryl. He's out right now." Carol looked out into the distance. "He set his camp up away from the rest of us." Chris looked in the direction Carol was looking, seeing nothing.

"Out?" She looked back at Carol. "Where'd he go? I mean…I'd like to thank him…for bringing me here." Carol looked down, sighing morosely.

"Um…he's looking for my little girl." She looked down at a blouse she was holding, playing with the sleeve.

"Your…daughter?" Chris asked gently.

"Yes. She went missing. She was chased into the woods by some Walkers. Rick left her in the woods alone…we don't know where she is. It's been…a while." Chris looked around uncomfortably. Carol looked like she was going to cry and Chris had no idea what she should do. Carol took a shaky breath and looked at Chris. "Daryl's been out looking for her all morning. Bless his heart."

"It must've been a surprise...him comin' back with me." Chris remembered the man's icy eyes, calloused fingers on her skin and, overall frightening demeanor and shuddered. "I'm sorry."

"No. I'm glad you're okay. " Carol smiled sadly. "I'm sure we'll find my girl soon…I was planning on cleanin' up the RV, makin' it look nice for her."

"I'm sure she'll love that…well, I'll see you later Carol." Chris nodded, starting off.

"Later." Carol nodded, going back to hanging laundry.

Chris walks around the camp for a couple more minutes, unable to get Carol and her daughter out of her mind. 'That little girl's dead.' She thinks to herself, feeling sorry for Carol. She stops by a tree, leaning against it and taking a few deep breaths, feeling weak. She looks around, her gaze stopping on a thin woman with a serious, concerned face, who is staring straight back at her, sending a shiver up her spine. The woman stared at her for another few seconds, before turning and going into a tent.

Chris moves away from the tree, wincing as she feels an ache in her side. She walks back towards the house, feeling too nervous after seeing that woman's face, not wanting to meet anyone else. She walks inside the house and towards the room she'd been staying in.

"I can't believe you Rick! You're going to let this stranger join the group!?" A man's angry voice, that she couldn't recognize, came from the room.

"She's a nice girl. She isn't a threat." That was Rick's voice.

"How can you know that? Huh? How can you know that for sure?"

"Shane…don't worry. If she was dangerous, she would've tried something already. We're safe."

"Only reason she hasn't tried nothing is cause' she's too weak…and didn't you say she had lunged at you the first time you saw her?"

"She felt threatened, and she's gotten a lot stronger and she's been really calm. She's not going to do anything, Shane."

"Rick…this is a mistake, man."

"She's more afraid of us, than we have to be of her."

"Scared people are unpredictable, Rick. What if she gets _scared_ and hurts someone, or _worse_."

"That won't happen…she's already trying to make friends with the group. She doesn't want to be alone. She wants to be in this group. I know it."

"Fine. Do what you want. I just hope you're right…"

"I am." She heard footsteps and scrambled to get away from the door. "Hey, Chris." Rick came out of the room first and nodded at her politely. Then the other man burst out. He glared at Chris with his dark brown eyes.

"You'd better watch yourself girl." He scoffed.

"You too." She shot back.

"That a threat?" He went forward, his face close to Chris'. "You threatening me girl?"

"Get away from me, you bastard!" She growled stepping back quickly, stumbling and falling back against a wall.

"I will _shoot_ you! You hear me!?" He continued to step forward.

"Screw you!" She snarled, trying to regain her footing.

"Shane!" Rick grabbed Shane's arm. "Leave her alone!"

"Did you hear her? That little bitch-"

"Leave her alone!" Rick said through his teeth. The two men glared at each other for a few seconds before Shane turned and pushed past Chris, going outside. Rick looked at the shaken up women and sighed. "I'm sorry about that."

"You goin' to kill me?" Chris looked up at Rick, breathing shakily. "It sounds like…_he_ wants to." She looked down and Rick shook his head quickly.

"No, of course not." He touched Chris' shoulder and she flinched away. "I was…about to go talk to the group. You want to come?"

"No." She shook her head, going past him, towards the room.

"It'll make it easier…to get them to want you to stay."

"I really doubt that."

"You don't have to be afraid." He touched her shoulder again, squeezing it gently. She tensed up. "I think Daryl just came back. You could…say hello to him. I heard from Carol that you wanted to thank him."

"Maybe later." She shrugged his hand off and went into the room. He followed her.

"Wait."

"What?" She spun around staring at him with frightened eyes. "I told you…I'm not going out there!" He stood, quiet for a moment, surprised at her reaction. He approached her slowly.

"I know. I know. I just need to talk to you about something." He sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Can we do that? Just sit and talk for a bit." She looked at him, biting her lip, breathing hard. "I understand you're afraid. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to talk." She nodded slowly, sitting on the side of the bed that was closer to where Rick sat.

"What do you want to talk about?" She muttered.

"It's really important that you tell me the truth."

"What do you want?" She repeated, tired of being talked to by his Sheriff's voice. As if she was a child, or a criminal. Rick looked down at the floor silently, before looking up at her with a serious gaze.

"Did you have a group? Before Daryl found you? Any relatives? Friends? Anybody?"


	4. It's just one girl

**A little Holiday present for everyone who's reading!**

**I tried to make this one a little longer. Hope you guys enjoy it!  
**

**(I'm not too sure what to draw for the story. Anyone have any suggestions or ideas? Send them to me in a pm or in a review and I'll do my best to make some nice art for you guys!)  
**

****** Happy Holidays! Stay warm everyone!  
**

* * *

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" The blonde woman stood with her fists on her hips, her eyebrow raised at the leader of the small group. "She's a stranger."

"She's a good person. She means no harm." Rick stood on the porch of Hershel's house, standing above the group as he spoke to them and tried to win over their opinion of the girl.

"How can you know that?" The blonde woman shot back. Shane stood behind her, staring daggers at Rick.

"I've talked to her. Many times. She just wants to be a part of our group. She wants to belong."

"What if she has people somewhere looking for her?" Shane asked, almost shouting. "What if they come lookin' for her and attack us?"

"We don't have to worry about that, Shane." Rick said quietly as he stared at Shane coldly, remembering the argument he'd had with him and his threatening attitude towards Chris.

"And why not?" Shane shouted this time.

"Her group was attacked. All of them were killed." Everyone was silent for a few minutes. "She's the only one who escaped. They shot her…almost killed her too, but she got away."

"She's harmless, and she seems like a nice girl." Carol cut in timidly, looking around at the group.

"She is." Rick agreed. "I'm asking for you guy to give her a chance, at least." Andrea and Shane had expressions of disapproval on their faces, while the rest of the group seemed somewhat nervous, but willing to trust Rick's opinion of the woman.

"How could…one girl fight off a group like that? How do you know she's telling the truth?" Andrea challenged Rick. "She could be the one who was attacking people. She could be a murderer."

"She's not a murderer! She's just trying to survive! Just like all of us! What would you expect her to do when being attacked!? Roll over and get killed!?" He gestured angrily at Andrea and Shane. The group stood silently, avoiding eye contact with each other.

"Well, I agree with you." An old man with a canvas fishing cap broke the silence, looking up at Rick. A few others in the group looked at him and nodded their approval. "She deserves a chance."

"Thank you Dale." Rick nodded then looked around the group, stopping his gaze on Shane and Andrea. "Well, it looks like Andrea and Shane are the only ones who don't agree…" The man with the crossbow shook his head, scoffing mockingly.

"Whatever." The low guttural noise reached Rick's ears.

"Daryl? You got something to say?" Rick raised an eyebrow at the man. "You don't think we should let her in the group?"

"I don't give a damn what you do with her…I don't see why yer all getting' yer panties in a knot either." He shouldered his crossbow. "It's just one girl. We can handle her." He walked off towards his camp. Rick watched him then looked at the faces of the people in his group.

"All right then." He looked behind him, at the door of the house. "She's staying."

* * *

Chris watched from the screen door as the group decided her fate. She watched Shane and the blonde woman named Andrea, as they argued with Rick, not trusting her, wanting her away from the group, but her attention was immediately pulled to the man with the crossbow. He had muscular arms and looked rough and dirty. He had an aggravated look on his face, as if he hated being around the group. Daryl. She bit her lip and moved away from the screen door, trembling softly as she heard Daryl's comment and Rick's final decision on her fate. 'I can stay…' she thought to herself. She began walking back to the room she'd been staying in for almost a week now.

* * *

Chris continued to avoid contact with people for a few more days, ignoring Rick's numerous attempts to persuade her to socialize with the group.

"You don't have to worry about Shane or Andrea, they're just a little worried." Rick stood before Chris for the 3rd time that day.

"I don't care about them." She stood by the window, looking out at the group as they went about their business.

"Then why?" He shook his head, tired of arguing with the woman. "Why are you so against joining our group? After I went out there and asked all of them to let you stay!" His voice raised and she lowered her head.

"I…I don't belong here. You're all so close. Like a family." She said quickly and quietly, in almost a whimper.

"We were all strangers at one time. It took time for us to get this close and it'll take time for us to get used to you, but we will."

"I just can't…see myself joining another group." She hesitated and slowly looked away from the window and up at Rick. "I'm just…really scared. I don't want to…" She stopped, whimpering and looking down at her hands. He walked over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder then pulling away when she flinched at seeing his fingers move close to her out of her peripheral.

"You shouldn't be." His voice softened "Please. Just…set up a tent outside with us and get to know everyone. You'll fit in just fine." He took a few steps back, staring at her. "Please?"

"Rick…" She shook her head. "You're just…so damn pushy." She smiled feebly. "I'll set up my tent a little farther from the group though. I don't want to take up too much room."

"Don't worry about that. There's plenty of room for you." He waved his hand as if to dismiss her worry.

"I don't want to be around so many people. Not yet."

"Well, All right." He didn't argue, glad he'd succeeded in getting her to agree to join the group at all and afraid of pushing her away again. "Then, set up near Daryl at least."

'No. I don't want to be near that guy.' She thought, with a frown. "Near Daryl?"

"I want you to be close to at least one of us."

"I don't need a babysitter. Especially…" She stopped, looking away from Rick and back out the window. "Why is Daryl so far from the rest of the group anyways?"

"He does what he wants, and he can handle himself." He sensed her uneasiness and quickly spoke to comfort her.. "He's a nice guy, though. He's just a little…rough."

"Well…you don't have to worry about me. I know how to protect myself just fine."

* * *

Chris had her backpack strapped to her back, and a bag with a portable tent inside slung over her shoulder.

"Hey Chris. You feeling better?" Chris looked up, seeing the man with the canvas hat sitting on a fold out chair on top of the RV, smiling down at her. Dale.

"Hey. Yeah. I'm doin' alright." She waved lazily.

"Where you heading?" He asked as he slowly stood and went closer to the edge of the roof of the RV.

"Out there." She pointed to the field where Daryl's camp was. "I'm gonna set up my tent out there. Finally get settled into the group…" She laughed awkwardly.

"Isn't that where Daryl is set up?" His thick, messy eyebrows furrowed together.

"Yep." She said simply. "Rick wants me to be near at least one of the group"

"Why not set up here, closer to the rest of us?"

"I just…" She looked out into the field. "…like being alone. A little peace and quiet, y' know?"

"Well, all right. You're always welcome here though." He smiled kindly, his smile failing to veil his concern from her. "Plenty of room in the RV and you could set up your tent anywhere in the camp."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." She smiled back then continued towards the field. She saw Carol sitting on a stump near the wire that the group's laundry was hung on. She looked at her for a moment, not sure if she should approach her or not then moved on, deciding it'd be best to not bother her with awkward conversation.

She approached the field. The sun was setting and she was regretting leaving the group's campsite, hell, leaving the house in the first place. 'He's a nice man.' She was trembling as she approached his tent. She froze as the flap of the tent flew open and he ducked out of it. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. She stared back, her eyes wide and scared. She looked down in an attempt to hide her frightened expression. "whatchu want?" he said in a gritty, Georgian accent. She looked back up at him, holding her breath.

"Um…"

"What, you can't talk?" He stood in front of his tent, his stance seeming threatening and territorial to the anxious woman.

"N-no. I was just going to…" She motioned to her tent with a shaking hand then shook her head quickly. "No…no, never mind." She stood silently, unable to break away from his cold stare. She slowly backed away a step.

"Set up over there." He motioned to the left of his tent by lazily waving his hand.

"What?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You deaf or somethin'? Set up over there." He pointed to a tree a few feet away from his tent. "Rick tol' me you were gonna set up away from the group." He looked her up and down with those icy, blue eyes that made her skin crawl. "I can't believe he's settling me with watching yer ass." He said in an irritated tone before going back into his tent. She looked at the tent for a few minutes then walked over to the spot he had pointed at. She stood by the tree for a few minutes, digging into the soft dirt with the tip of her boot then walking farther out into the field.

'No. I can't stay there. I can't be around that man.'

"Where the hell do you think yer goin'?" His voice grumbled out behind her and she froze.

"Don't worry about it!" She called back shakily, continuing without turning around.

"Stupid bitch." he muttered, going back into his tent. She looked over her shoulder, relief washing over her when she didn't see him following her.

She stopped walking once his camp was out of sight, dropping her backpack and tent on the ground. She looked around, seeing the dark outlines of trees in the distance. "Why am I here?" She groaned, pulling the pieces of the tent out of the bag and setting it up quickly. She crawled inside once it was set up, taking her backpack with her. She pulled a pillow and thin blanket out from the bag and laid it out on the floor of the tent. She curled up underneath the blanket and sighed. 'I don't belong here. I'm goin' to get killed.' She whimpered, burying her face into the pillow. 'He's not a good guy.' She grunted, digging her nails into the pillow. "Damn it" Her voice quivered. "…Damn it!"


	5. Her Work

**Hope this chapter isn't too boring. I'm going to be gone for about five days, so I wanted to upload something before I left. I'll try working on Chapter 6 while I'm gone. Later.**

* * *

She ducked through the heavy brush, cutting the overgrown forage away with a large hunting knife. She swiped at vines and branches, thick gloves protecting her hands, and broke through one last wall of green, bursting into the open area. She let out a relieved sigh, dropping her backpack in the wet grass. She stood silently, listening to the gentle gurgling of the river, watching the water trickle over and around stones of different sizes, weathering them into round, smooth orbs.

Her thoughts snapped back to the task at hand. She went to the edge of the small river, staring down at the decaying male body. She scoffed and bent down, grabbing the body under its armpits and pulling it up out of the water. She dropped the body in the grass, gagging as the smell hit. "Shit." She spat in an attempt to clean the scent from her nostrils and tongue, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her gloved hand. She got down on her knees to examine the body. The man's stomach had been torn open sloppily to expose his guts that had been ripped and chewed apart. The remaining innards were now being feasted on by flies, maggots and other decomposers. She recoiled at the sight of the wriggling, mushy mess and turned her attention to digging through the pockets of the corpse's worn, dirty jeans then the pockets of the shredded shirt and jacket. She threw the Zippo lighter, pocket knife and box of bullets to the side and tangled her fingers in the curly hair, crusty with dried blood. She turned the man's head slowly so that she could see the dead man's face, the stiff neck cracking in refusal as she did. She pulled her hand back as she heard the crack, the hairs on her arms standing up. She stared at the man's face, staring long.

There was a large knife wound in the wide forehead that started at the messy hairline and ended between dark, empty sockets. The flies had gone for them first. She frowned in disgust. Dry blood trailed from the wound down his cheeks and fuzzy chin and onto his chest where there was blood splattered from being mercilessly ripped open. She was trembling, anger building up a growl inside of her chest. She took the hunting knife into her hands and raised it above her head. "You fuckin' bastard…" she snarled, bringing the knife down into the man's throat in one quick motion. The man's throat cracked again and caved in immediately. Already decomposing and being twisted out of place by the woman minutes before. She grabbed the man's chin with her left hand and lifted it up, gripping the knife in her right and shoving it into the side of concaving throat with a grunt. She lifted it again, her hand shaking this time, then thrust it back down. "Fucking bastard!"

She stood above her work, panting in exhaustion. She stepped away from the mutilated body, anger still boiling up inside of her stomach and chest. She sighed and went towards the body once she felt somewhat calm. She shoved bloody hunting knife into holster in her belt and grabbed the head, stuffing it underneath a bush. She groaned, grabbing arms, legs and, finally, the torso and stuffing them into a tight pile underneath the bush. She gathered leaves and branches and used them to cover up exposed feet and fingers, throwing them over the bodies quickly. She took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her brow, standing back to inspect her work. She looked down at her bloody mud covered clothes and groaned in disgust. She plopped down in the grass and pulled off her worn out Doc Martens and tossed them to the side. She stood and unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them off and tossing them to the side with her shoes. She tentatively peeled off her tank top and dropped it to the ground. 'I can't wear this fucking thing back to camp.' She thought to herself as she stepped into the water. She watched the grime wash off of her body and down the river. She quickly scrubbed the dirt and blood off of her arms and face then jumped out of the river.

She stood in the grass for a moment, letting the water slide and drip off of her before she stepped into a sunny spot, being dried off quickly by the hot Georgia sun. She put on her jeans and another tank top she'd brought with her then sat down on a log to pull on her Doc Martens. She grabbed the things she'd found in the corpse's pockets and tossed them into her backpack. She looked around for anything she'd missed, seeing a lumpy, black object a few feet away. She walked over to it and picked it up. She stared at it for a minute then looked around with wide eyes, frightened. She stuffed the object into her bag and pulled it onto her shoulders walking back in the direction of the camp as quickly as she could.

* * *

She took the thick article of clothing out of her bag and ran her fingers over it, staring closely at it, making sure it was really in front of her. She pulled it close to her chest, closing her eyes and whimpering. She fell onto her side and clutched the fabric to her body and face, sobbing into it. "Fuck!" The fabric muffled her distraught cries. "Fuck…I'm sorry." She wept, digging her nails into the fabric. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

"Chris." Strong fingers tapped against the tent, making a loud popping noise. The woman groaned and rolled over. "Hey. I'm comin' in." She heard the opening of her tent being unzipped and whimpered.

"Go away."

"Carol asked me to bring this for you." She heard the man's voice and shot up into a sitting position. He was crouching at the entrance of the tent, holding a plate covered in a cloth, looking at her with the only expression she'd ever seen on him. Cold. Mean. She stared at him, realizing that this was as close as she'd been to the man since he'd found her in the woods. "Some breakfast. Y' never came outta yer tent to eat." He set the plate down in front of her and she moved away.

"Get out." She said coldly.

"Wait a minute." He moved forward, and she flinched away.

"I said, get out."

"Look, woman, I just wanna tell you somethin'." He moved even closer and she scooted back farther, gasping softly.

"Please." She whimpered and he stopped, crouched in front of her. "Please leave…please." She reached out her hand, searching for her belt that had her hunting knife strapped to it, not taking her eyes off of him. He saw her reaching for the weapon and grabbed her wrist.

"Whoa, hey." She yelped and he let go, but grabbed the knife and tossed it to the side, farther away from her. She was staring at him with wide eyes, trembling now. "I'm not gonna do nothin'." He stared back at her, right into her eyes, his expression changing, softening.

"Please. Just leave." She ignored the look on his face.

"Look, I just-" He went forward again, slower this time.

"Go away!" She cut him off with a loud cry and he scoffed, looking down and shaking his head.

"Whatever. I don't have time for this." He ducked out of her tent, lingering in the door way. "Whenever you wanna move yer tent closer come up and ask me." He looked behind him, then back at her. "I'm goin' out right now…so don't bother goin' up there for a while." He stood, closing the opening to the tent. "Later."


	6. Just as scared as you

**I'm so sorry for the late update! I'm working on the next chapter right now and I promise that I'm going to try my hardest to make it a good one. I tried making this chapter really long with a lot of Chris interacting with other characters. I hope it's okay! Thank you for reading everyone! **

**Yay More Daryl! I hope everyone wished Norman Reedus a Happy 44th Birthday yesterday!  
**

* * *

She exited her tent about a half hour after Daryl left, pulling on the large black jacket and zipping it up to her chin. She reached into her tent and took the cleaned plate from the floor and started towards house. She stopped by Daryl's small camp on her way to the house, examining the pile of white ash and black wood that was surrounded by a circle of stones to keep the fire and ash inside. She looked at the motorcycle, the wires tied to nearby trees that had dead squirrels hanging from them, and the crumbling brick structure it stood next to. She continued towards the house then stopped at the RV, tired and sweating.

"Dale?" She called out the man's name, knocking gently on the door of the Winnebago twice before entering. "Hey, you seen Carol?" She stopped at the entrance of the tidy RV. "Carol?" The older, short haired woman sat at a small table that was built into the wall of the vehicle, her face red and wet with tears.

"Hello Chris." She sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks quickly. "What do you need?"

"I came to bring this back and thank you…are you okay?" Chris went towards her and set the plate on the table then slowly sat across from her, putting her hands on the table.

"I'm…alright. I just…" Carol whimpered and tears started pouring from her eyes again. "Daryl brought this to me, the day before he found you." She had a beer bottle in front of her, a single white flower sat in it. A Cherokee Rose. "He told me that… it had bloomed for Sophia." She sniffled and picked up a small towel from the seat, wiping her eyes and nose. "When he came back to camp, shouting about finding a girl I was so happy. I ran into the house, so excited to see my little girl, thinking that God had answered my prayers and had brought her back to me. It broke my heart when I saw you laying there. It didn't matter that you were bleeding to death, covered in dirt, and barely breathing. I wanted my daughter back and I hated you." Chris was silent, looking down at her lap, taking in everything Carol was saying in her soft shaking voice. "Christina. I'm sorry." Carol reached across the table and touched her hand, making Chris flinch. "I'm so sorry for being so selfish. I'm glad Daryl found you. Really." Chris looked up at her and shook her head quickly.

"Oh. No don't apologize, Carol. You don't have to. There's nothing wrong with feeling that way." Chris squeezed Carol's hand. "I'm not mad at you. I understand. Believe me." Carol looked up at Chris, her eyes filled with sorrow.

"You're a sweet girl and I'm glad he found you. I just miss my little girl so much. I'm just so worried."

"If she's out there…Daryl will find her." Chris whispered tentatively.

"He's a great tracker. And he's such a good person." Carol said with a soft smile. "He's out looking for my girl right now." Chris looked down at her lap, pulling her hands away from Carol's slowly. "Chris, what's wrong?"

"You sure? That he's a good guy?" Chris asked softly, looking up at Carol with a nervous expression. "He seems really…scary."

"He scares you? Why?"

"He doesn't seem like a nice guy. The way he looks at me and talks to me. It's like he hates me. I'm afraid of him."

"It's normal to be afraid of a guy like Daryl, he's a threatening looking guy, but you should try talking to him." Chris scoffed and shook her head.

"No. He doesn't want to waste his time talking to me." Chris frowned. "Besides…he tried talking to me and I pushed him away. He won't want to talk to me after that."

"He's always hiding from everyone. It's hard to figure him out." Carol smiled sweetly at Chris. "Maybe you could bring him out of his shell." Chris raised an eyebrow at Carol, smirking.

"I really doubt that. What's so special about me that's gonna make him wanna open up and talk?" Carol laughed softly.

"Who knows? Some men will do anything for a pretty girl like you." Carol chuckled and Chris looked down, furrowing her brow. "He's never shown interest in anyone before, though, and no one knows anything about his past." Chris relaxed a little and looked up at Carol.

"I guess I could try talking to him. I mean, he must be a nice guy for spending so much time lookin' for a little girl, right?"

"He is. He's just as scared as you." Chris looked up at Carol, raising an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Carol stared at her for a minute then shook her head.

"Nothing." She stood and walked over to the sink, putting the plate into it. "Thanks for bringing this back. Was the food alright?"

"It was good. Thank you for sending it down." Chris stood as well. "I'll talk to him. Later." She faltered slightly, but caught herself on the table.

"Oh, Chris are you okay?" Carol asked, looking at her with concern in her tired eyes.

"I'm fine. Just need some air." Chris said quietly, looking down.

"It's probably that heavy sweater you're wearing…be careful out there."

"Later." Chris repeated, rushing to get out of the Winnebago.

"Later." Carol nodded politely at Chris and she quickly left the RV, heading back towards her camp.

* * *

She sat in front of the man's tent, her knees pulled up to her chin. She stared at the small pile of ash, white and cold, covering small black shards of charcoal. She picked up a stick and poked the pile, ash lifted and danced in the air.

"What're you doin' here?" Her head snapped up at the sound of the rough voice.

"Daryl…I wanted to…talk to you." He scoffed, taking his crossbow off of his shoulder and setting it against a piece of wood. She watched as he pulled off the jean vest with a wings design on the back. She bit her lip and stiffened, watching as his taut muscles flexed and moved underneath his dirty, tanned skin.

"What do you want? To scream at me again?" He grumbled, sitting across from her, in the dirt.

"What? N-no." She shook her head quickly. "I'm really sorry about that. I was just…scared. I'm sorry." They stared at each other for a minute, quiet. "Did you find any sign of her? Carol's girl?" He looked down and picked up a thin piece of wood that was beside him then pulled a large knife out of his pocket. He began carving a point into the tip of the wood.

"Nah. I didn't." She kept her eyes on his hands, big and strong, working carefully at the thin piece of wood.

"I'm sorry."

"Why're you apologizin' to me?" He said quickly, keeping his eyes on his work. "She's not my kid."

"Well,…because you care about her." He scoffed and she raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I don't give a damn about anybody."

"I…really doubt that."

"Believe it, lady. It's the truth."

"So every day you're out in the woods, risking your life, lookin' for someone you don't give a damn about. Huh." She said quietly, still staring at him. His hands stopped and he looked up at her, his eyes cold.

"Is this why you came down here? So you can pretend you know a damn thing about me? You don't!" He stood, dropping his knife and the stick on the ground. "What do you want?" He shouted and she froze, staring up at the man, her eyes wide and frightened. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a small gasp left her lips. He scoffed again, watching her as she took quick, deep breaths to calm her nerves. "You're like a damn mouse. It's a damn miracle you've survived this long." She looked up at him, her brow furrowed.

"Shut up!" She growled. "I am not weak!"

"Yer afraid of your own damn shadow!" He shot back, gesturing towards her angrily with his hand.

"That doesn't mean I'm weak!" She was shouting now as she jumped to her feet. "I'm not weak!" She repeated loudly, bracing herself for his screaming.

"Whatever. I'm tired of you. Go run back to your little tent and quit botherin' me." He growled, picking up his knife and stuffing it back into a holster in his belt. "Get outta my face." He said flatly and went towards his tent. She groaned and went after him, touching his shoulder with a shaking hand.

"Daryl, wait." He spun around quickly, his eyes wide with surprise his body tense and ready to strike back. She gasped and stepped away. He relaxed.

"What?"

"I…wanted to move my tent up here. Is that okay?" She said softly, her voice catching. He looked her up and down, focusing on her shaking fists and guarded stance. Her pupils were slighlty dilated. She was terrified. "I should've just asked you from the beginning, I'm sorry." She whimpered. "I'm really sorry." He shook his head, chuckling coldly.

"Stay here. I'll set it up." He moved quickly, walking towards her tent, leaving her and his tent behind him. He went towards the tent, opening the flap when he reached it and pulling out her backpack, leaving her blankets inside. He pulled the backpack onto his back and took the tent down, rolling it up into a heap and taking it back to his camp. "I'm settin' you up here." He dropped the heap next to the tree he'd showed her the first time she'd moved out of the house and began setting the tent back up. She walked over to him, watching carefully.

"Thank you, Daryl." She whispered from a few steps away from him, afraid of getting any closer to the man. He continued to set it up, stepping back and circling the tent to examine his work once it was standing. He looked at her and nodded.

"Don't worry about it." He shrugged off her backpack and she watched his muscular arms once again. "I'm goin' out again tomorrow." He held the pack out to her and she took it timidly. "Try comin' outta yer tent sometime. You're gonna start worryin' people." He looked at her for another minute then nodded. "Night." He said finally before walking off toward his tent.

She watched him duck into his tent and sighed, turning towards her own. She threw her backpack into the tent and ducked inside, reorganizing her jumbled bedding and pulling off the thick sweater with a relieved sigh. She threw the sweater to the side and slipped in underneath the blankets with a small moan, the blankets cool on her hot skin. She closed her eyes and ignored her tired and quickly beating heart.


	7. Chupacabra (Part 1)

**I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING SO INACTIVE. I've been incredibly busy with school and haven't had time to work on this. I'm so sorry. I tried to write a good amount for you guys. I hope you enjoy! I'll try to work on part 2 today! Later! **

* * *

She was sitting on a small stump outside of her tent, pulling on her worn out boots and watching Daryl go about his business a few feet away. He grabbed a small pouch and attached it to his belt, then shouldered his crossbow. He looked at Chris gave a slight nod and started off towards the house. She tied up the laces on her Doc Martens and followed, checking the holster on her belt for her hunting knife, and pulling on her sweater.

All The men and Andrea were gathered around a truck when she entered the camp. A large map of the area near the farm was spread out on the hood in front of them. She walked up to them slowly, catching Rick's attention.

"Good morning Chris." Rick said, nodding politely.

"Morning." She smiled. "Mind if I…join in?" She pointed at the map.

"I don't mind. Come on." She stood across the hood from Rick and looked down at the map.

"Morning guys!" Chris turned, seeing Shane walking towards the group. "Let's get going we got a lot of ground to cover." She looked back down at the map to avoid making eye contact with the man as he passed behind her and sat in the passenger's seat of the truck, leaning out the door. "Hey." Chris turned, seeing him looking at her with a cocked eyebrow. "Mornin'."

"Hey." She said quietly then looked back at Rick, who was watching Shane closely. Daryl stood beside him.

"All right…everyone's getting new search grids today." Rick glided his hand across the map. "If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found," He pointed to a spot on the map "she might have gone farther west then we've been so far." hen ran his finger west of the spot he'd pointed at.

"I'd like to help." A young man named Jim, who Hershel took care of, came towards the group. "I know the area pretty well and stuff."

"Hershel's okay with this?" Rick asked Jim quickly, not wanting to do anything that would upset the owner of the land him and his group had been living on.

"Yeah…yeah." Jim hesitated and Chris scoffed. 'He's lying.' She thought to herself. "He said I should ask you." Rick looked at him for a moment, as if deciding whether he should trust Jim.

"All right, then. Thanks." He turned back to the group.

"Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me." Shane said before Rick could continue. "Anyone could've been holed up in that farmhouse." So her name's Sophia.

"Anyone includes her, right?" Andrea shot at Shane.

"Whoever slept in that hole was no bigger than yay-high." She turned her attention to Daryl. He raised his hand to his waist to show how tall the person must've been, about the height of an eleven year old.

"It's a good lead." Andrea said.

"Yeah." Chris agreed and Daryl looked at her.

"Maybe we'll pick up her trail again." Rick said, looking at Shane with a disappointed expression then back at Daryl.

"No Maybe about it. I'm gonna borrow a horse," He nudged past Rick and pointed to the map. "head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's eyes view of the whole grid. If she's up there I'll spot her."

"Good idea." A man standing next to Daryl said. T-Dog. "Maybe you'll see your Chupacabra up there, too."

"Chupacabra?" Rick raised an eyebrow at Daryl.

"You never heard this?" Dale moved in between Daryl and T-Dog, setting a few shotguns on the hood of the car, on top of the map. "Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and saw a Chupacabra." He puts emphasis on the last word, raising his eyebrow sarcastically. Jim chuckles and shakes his head.

"What are you braying at jackass?" Daryl hissed and Chris bit her lip, the tension in the air making her uncomfortable and nervous. Jim's mouth shut and he cleared his throat.

"You believe in a blood-sucking dog?" Jim said with a smug smile.

"You believe in dead people walking around?" Daryl shot back, glaring. Chris smiled at the quick, clever remark. Jim looked away from the threatening man and moved his attention to the shotguns. He reached for one and Rick grabbed it away from him.

"Hey, hey. Ever fire one before?" Rick held the shotgun at his side.

"Well, if I'm going out I want one."

"Yeah," Daryl scoffed. "and people in hell want slurpees." And he walked off. Chris looked after him.

"Why don't you come train tomorrow?" Shane said to Jim. "If you're serious, I'm a certified instructor." Chris ignored him and stepped away from the truck, starting after Daryl. "Hey!" She looked over her shoulder and saw Shane coming towards her. She froze, her hand moving to her knife. "Whoa." He waved his hands in front of his chest. "I just wanted to ask you if you'd like to train tomorrow. I'm an instructor. I can teach you how to shoot." He had a strange smirk on his face that made her skin crawl and her stomach coil.

"I don't need training." She said flatly. "Thanks, though." She stepped back, keeping her eyes on him, then turned and started off in the direction Daryl had gone.

She walked quickly, catching up with him just as he was going into the small wooden stalls the horses were kept in. "Hey. Wait a minute." She called out and he looked over his shoulder then stopped and turned to face her.

"What?" He adjusted the crossbow on his shoulder then went into one of the stalls, guiding a brown horse out by the reins.

"Mind if I come along? Help you look for the girl?" He grabbed a saddle off of a hook next to the stall and set it on the horse's back.

"You wanna come with _me_?" He buckled and tightened the billet strap underneath the horse and patted it on the shoulder, brushing his hand over the silky fur.

"It wouldn't hurt." She shrugged and smiled shyly, watching his hands work. "I can be useful, out in the woods." His muscles twitched and rolled around underneath his skin with every move he made. He let out a snort.

"You track?"

"A little." She nodded quickly. "Used to track and hunt with my grandpa before he passed away." He was checking the straps on the saddle now.

"You any good?" He tugged at one of the straps, receiving a small neigh from the horse.

"Yeah." She scratched the back of her head. "Probably not as good as you, though. You seem to know how to handle that crossbow pretty damn well."

"Yeah. I've hunted my whole life. Only way I could eat." He pulled on the strap one last time then stood, grabbing a dirty bandana from his pocket and wiping the beads of sweat from his brow. "Aint like my daddy was gonna feed me." He said, poison in his gravelly voice. Chris stared at him, biting her lip.

"Yeah…yeah." She hesitated and he looked at her, the corners of his thin lips twitching softly.

"You ride?" He pointed at the horse. "We can both go on this one, if you can't."

"Y-yes. I can." She imagined having her arms around his waist, her chest being pressed close up against his warm, muscular back. She trembled as panic rose up in her chest. "I can ride my own. Grandpa taught me that too. I used to go to his farm in the summer when I was younger." She opened a stall and led out another brown horse with flecks of white on its side by the reins. She patted it's side gently, then took the saddle from the hook next to it's stall and began saddling the horse.

Daryl stood quietly by his horse, watching her. He paid close attention to the way her hands moved, buckling and tightening the straps. He fingers were long and thin, peeking out of the sleeves of her thick sweater. She saddled the animal quickly then looked at Daryl. She lifted her foot into the stirrup, lifting herself up and throwing her leg over the saddle, settling into the seat. "Ready?"

"Yep." He said as he also settled into the seat of his saddle.

"Lead the way." He smirked and clicked his tongue, leading the horse towards the woods with the woman following close beside him.

"You said you were going to borrow the horses?"

"Yeah, and I did."

"I didn't see you ask Hershel."

"That's 'cause I didn't." She laughed.

"He won't be happy about that."

"You can go back if you're afraid of getting in trouble."

"You want me to?" He held out his hand in front of her chest to quiet her. They halted their horses. She watched him as he carefully raised his crossbow and stared through the crossbow's sight and into the distance. She scanned the forest for any signs of movement, a human, a walker, her hunting knife raised. She looked at him then back into the forest. "Daryl?" She hissed his name then gasped as the string twanged loudly, shooting the arrow. He clicked his tongue and his horse trotted forward towards the tree the arrow had pierced a squirrel through the neck, pinning it to the bark. He took the arrow in his fist and pulled it out along with the squirrel. "Nice." She said with a smirk as he put the squirrel into a pouch attached to the saddle.

"You try." He pointed at another tree a few feet away, a brown fluffy creature was scampering down a branch, its tail twitching. She looked at him and smiled.

"May I?" She whispered, pointing at the crossbow. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sure, if you can handle it." He said almost playfully, handing it over to her. She tucked her hunting knife back into the holster in her belt then held the crossbow in her hand for a moment, sliding her hand over the limb and foregrip before positioning it in front of her, carefully sliding her finger against the trigger. She stared down the length of the arrow, aiming at the squirrel. She took a deep breath then exhaled as the string shot the arrow forward with a powerful twang. She lowered the crossbow and beamed.

"Got it." The arrow stuck out of the squirrel's back, the feathers still quivering.

"Nice." Daryl muttered with a small smirk as he went to the tree, taking the arrow from the tree, pulling the squirrel off of it and stuffing it in his pouch. "You're grampa used a crossbow?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Crossbow, guns, knives. Taught me everything he could before he got sick." She ran her fingers over the smooth limb once more, a nostalgic feeling rising in her chest, before she guided the horse to Daryl and handed it back to him with a sad smile. "Nice weapon."

"What happened to him?" He asked then clicked his tongue and continued the horse through the forest with Chris following quietly.

"Alzheimer. Weak heart. He had a heart attack when I was home alone. The neighbor called me. She said: "Grandpa had a heart attack. He's going to die" I stole my dad's truck and drove to the farm. It was too late." She huffed out a shaky sigh. "I guess it's a good thing." She shrugged, though he was in front of and facing away from her and couldn't see the moves she made or the emotions flashing over her face and in her eyes. "He doesn't have to see all of this." She ran her finger tips through the horse's short, soft fur then looked up at Daryl, who she was surprised to see, was looking over his shoulder at her. "Hey…we're lookin' for a little girl, right? No time for reminiscing."

The two rode on for another half hour silently. Silence that left Chris' thoughts with plenty of room to crawl out from the deep corners of her mind that she had been shoving them in for the past few weeks. The blurred, almost indistinguishable faces of her old group flashed through her mind first. She heard the screaming and crying. Her hands shook and she gripped the hook on the saddle tightly. Then she saw the dark brown eyes staring at her from underneath the bloody, matted hair that covered the dirty frightened face. Her eyes were pleading, begging for help that Chris was unable to give.

"You really think this girl is alive?" She asked in a cool, quiet tone, almost a whisper. "Really?" He looked over his shoulder at her.

"What?"

"Carol's girl? Do you think she's alive?" She asked again, a bit louder.

"Don't you?" He turned back around, facing away from her and towards the front of the horse.

"She's been missing for how long? A week? Two?" She scoffed loudly and he stopped his horse with a small "whoa". She did the same. "If you find that girl…" he pulled the reins to turn the horse so that he was facing her, anger building up in his blue eyes. "…she's going to be dead or…" She chuckled coldly. "…one of those _fucking_ things." She was trembling quite visibly now.

"Shut up." He growled low in his throaty voice.

"This..." She bit her lip, holding back tears. "…this is a waste of fucking time."

"You don't know nothin'." He pursed his lips and gripped the reins in an attempt to control his temper. "You don't know what happened to her. You don't know nothin'!"

"I know that she's a little girl. One little girl! Alone! She's all alone in this shit world with no weapons, no food, and no shelter!" She let go of the hook on the saddle and gestured at him angrily.

"Shut the hell up!" He roared and his horse neighed loudly, panicking. "Whoa." He muttered to calm the animal then looked back at the woman. "If you're so sure she's dead why did you come along? Why are you here wasting my time and bothering me!?" He shouted, leaning threateningly towards her and she flinched back.

"You dumb asses are going to kill yourselves looking a dead girl." She shook her head. "What a fucking shame."

"Fuck off." He snarled. "You fucking bitch."

"She's dead!" She hissed before turning her horse in the opposite direction and clicking her tongue. The horse galloped away from Daryl and towards the farm.

"Stupid bitch." Daryl groaned and turned around patting the horse on the neck and starting it in the direction he'd been walking in before once Chris' horse's galloping was far behind him. The horse continued, slow and calm. Daryl attempted to clear his mind of the girl's words and face, to no avail. She had upset him. He wasn't prepared for her outburst and had a sick feeling in his stomach. She was probably right and he hated it. He gasped as the horse neighed loudly, stepping back and shaking its head from side to side. "Whoa! Whoa!" He cried out to calm the horse, but was thrown, rolling and sliding down a damp, stone cliff, landing in a strangely shaped river. He felt a stinging pain in his side and moaned. He looked down at his side. "Son of a bitch…" He groaned in pain and gently touched bolt stuck in his side, wincing. "Oh Shit…Chris…CHRIS!" He called out once and got no response. He didn't attempt to call again, knowing that she was too far away to hear him by now. "Shit."


End file.
